Houdini and Doyle (2016): Season 1, Episode 8 - Strigoi - full transcript

synced and corrected
by peritta

What the...?

Bram?

You're certain that the man
was following you?

Did you confront him about it?

Of course not. You know me.

Any heroics are confined
to my fiction.

No whiskey?

All I have is Scotch.

And I know better than to offer
Scotch to an Irishman.

I'll choke it down.



You honestly believe that the
man meant to harm you?

I'm certain of it.

Just like the cab driver last week?
Reckless fool.

And the fishmonger?
That mackerel was off.

I know you've been unusually
anxious, as of late.

And with good reason. Your book is
being released in paperback, when?

Monday, week.

With that release, comes lecture
requests and dinner parties.

Everyone wants to hear from the
brilliant author of Dracula.

Bram Stoker, who absolutely loves
public appearances.

I know that anxiety well.
No, you don't.

You're completely at ease
speaking in public.

A few more sips of whiskey and
you'll be at ease as well.

Then I'll take you home and all
will be well by the morning.



I never tire of your platitudes.

- Easy now.
- I'm fine.

It's all that Scotch.
Thank you, Arthur.

Thank you.

Oh, my God!

Ah. Bram Stoker, Harry Houdini.

It's an honour, sir.
I loved Dracula.

I've read everything you've written,

even your theatre reviews
from back in Dublin.

I didn't know the two
of you were friends.

Very close, since childhood.

My mother says we're distant
cousins but I could never
follow the genealogy.

Mr Stoker, when was the last time
you saw your maid alive?

Yesterday morning.

Glynnis was in fine spirits.

- I left for the day.
- Where did you go?

A meeting with my publisher,
then a few errands.

What kind of errands?

Mr Stoker, I need to know your
whereabouts for the entire day.

If you're looking for a suspect,

I suggest you start by finding the
man who followed me last night.

Bram, is there anything you
haven't told me about him?

Last night wasn't the first
time I encountered him.

Bram Stoker?

How did you get
in here? Who are you?

- A protector of the innocent.
- Get out of my house!

Your filthy book has
glorified evil.

Soiling the pure with its
violence and obscenity.

Well, I'm sorry if you feel soiled.

You will stop this plague
from spreading.

Stop the book from being published?
Impossible.

Oh, you will stop the release.

Or I promise you, there
will be retribution.

You should keep your back door
locked. I thought I had.

It's not unusual for obsessed fans
to come by.

Self-professed "vampires"
seeking autographs,

or "vampire hunters" accusing me

of destroying the moral fabric
of our nation.

Your book rattled a lot of people.
I like that.

I underestimated the appeal
it would have

for those banished to the fringe and
those wishing to exterminate them.

But... I'd never had one of them
actually enter my home, threaten me.

And yet, you didn't call
the police?

If you engage with these people,
it just emboldens them.

But now Glynnis... lies dead,
due to my mistake.

I'll forward a description of
the man to Scotland Yard.

Not much to go on without a name.

Please, employ the utmost
discretion with this case.

Bram hates his name in the papers,
even in the best circumstances.

Your friend's an interesting guy.
Wouldn't shake my hand.

It's nothing personal. He's just
not fond of any form of touching.

- Kind of a quirk, you might say.
- Like wearing make-up?

- Up close, I could tell.
- Yeah, I got that too.

As if it were any of your business.

- So you believe his story?
- Of course I do.

As much as it pains me to agree
with Doyle, I do too.

I know what it feels like having
obsessed fans hounding you.

The number of times I've
come back to my hotel

- to find a woman in my room.
- They're called housekeepers.

It's got to be especially
hard for Stoker,

having created the most famous
character in all of fiction.

I'm not ruling out anyone as a
suspect, including Mr Stoker.

Bram is incapable of such a crime.

Yes, he's socially awkward.
But he's a loyal friend,

who provided great encouragement

when I decided to stop practicing
medicine and write full time.

Hm-mm. That's great.
Good luck with that.

Should we consider asking Bram's
publisher to hold off on the book,

- until we get to the bottom of this?
- Giving the killer what he wants?

- That's your solution?
- No. Of course not.

But isn't our paramount
responsibility to keep Bram safe?

Surely there are other
ways of doing that?

Bram, you're coming with me.

All settled in, Mr "Hollister?"

I'm not settling in.

My suite's just down the hall,
if you need me.

My suite's just down the hall,
Duly noted.

And the dining room here is amazing.
You'll love it.

I'll take my meals in my room,
thank you.

Don't worry. You'll be safe here, as
long as you don't arouse suspicion.

I'll leave that to the large man
sat conspicuously in the hallway.

I employed him for protection.

He's under strict instructions not
to engage you in conversation.

And to enter, only if invited.

Which will be never.

You're right. Quirky.

The man who just checked in down
the hall, it's Bram Stoker, yes?

Hopefully you're the only
one who realized that.

Why is he here?

He's taking a little vacation,
hoping to get some rest.

- Why? Is something wrong?
- No, I just...

When I read Dracula, it stirred
memories of my childhood in Hungary.

People on the edge of the village.
Strigoi - undead.

Said to change shape into wolves,
or bats, even mists.

Old world superstitions. So silly.

Well, if you want, I can pick up
some garlic while I'm out.

Oh...

Go.

I have to get back to
Stoker's house.

Up here, in the maid's room.

What's wrong?

We were gonna
ask you the same thing.

You seemed a tad... curt earlier.

We were wondering if something
might be troubling you?

I assume you believe this is
from the anarchist group

your husband was involved with?

May have been involved with.
Yes, I think so.

For a group of anarchists, they're
surprisingly well-organised.

- You shouldn't be left alone.
- I don't need a bodyguard.

No fingerprints were found
on the wooden stake.

I spoke to Mr Stoker's neighbours.
They didn't see anyone come or go.

But they have heard loud arguing in
the past. Now I've found this.

A letter the maid was writing
to a friend, "Bram's changed.

He's grown hostile. Our relationship
is at best difficult."

Bram? First name basis.

I think he may have dropped
his 'no touch' rule.

Highly unlikely.

"He revolts me now. Bloodless freak
of a man, nagging at every turn."

Sounds like motive for murder.

And then he uses his good friend,
Dr Doyle, as an alibi.

Conveniently showing up
at your house,

so the two of you can find
the body together.

That's ridiculous. And I'm not going
to spend any more time on it.

- Hey, where are you going?
- Bram referred me to a professor,

who's an expert in the vampire cult.

If the man who threatened Bram is
indeed some kind of vampire hunter,

then perhaps this expert can
shed light on how to find him.

Vampire expert?
Not ridiculous at all (!)

The legends date back at
least 4,000 years

to the ancient Assyrians
and Babylonians.

Most of these legends arose from
fears of moral degradation.

Bram said these superstitions
all but died away

with the Industrial Revolution?

They did... until he exhumed
them with Dracula.

Sadly, he's had to deal with
some tragic repercussions.

I tried to warn him while
researching his book.

Is he all right now?
I hope he's somewhere safe?

- Is he all right now?
- Yes, very safe.

The man who threatened him,

- he gave no name?
- No.

He only said he was a,
"Protector of the innocent."

I've heard that title.

It's what the Vanatori often call
themselves. Vampire hunters.

This is a cult of opposing forces.

Troubled, often mentally ill people
claiming to be vampires,

and the self-righteous zealots
who hunt them.

My fans don deerstalker hats and
pipes, Bram's fans drink blood.

with both groups,

I've had my share of encounters
disrupting my lectures.

They've also been known to kill
cattle to drink their blood,

- vandalize cemeteries.
- Any cemeteries in particular?

Try Southwood. There's a group
who've taken to sleeping in coffins,

discarding the bones of the deceased
who were resting in them.

These cults do not take kindly

to the outside world interfering
in their war.

I fear they won't hesitate
to kill again.

What's that?

Cricket score sheets,
hundreds of them.

But only matches Doyle played in.

Stoker went to every
single one of them.

Took copious notes,
from start to finish.

Don't those matches
take days to play?

- A loyal friend indeed.
- Oh, and look at this.

They're an advertisement
for tweed.

That's Italy.

Happy memory?

My husband took me there
before we were married.

Unchaperoned?

We both told her we were sick one
morning, staying in our rooms.

Snuck off, rowed out onto Lake Como.

He wanted to teach me how to fish.

Tied on his prized fish hook,
guaranteed me we'd catch a boat-full.

- Let me guess, not a bite?
- Not even a hint.

Well, that can't be the
end of the story?

The weather turned. Trapped on the lake
for an hour, soaked to the skin.

My aunt would have killed us.

Except, before we rowed in...

...Benjamin surprised me with the
real reason he brought me there.

He proposed to me in the
pouring rain.

He sounds like a hell of a guy.

What's wrong?

Nothing.

Um...

I too found something interesting.

Several payments Mr Stoker
made to his maid.

So? She worked for the man.

Then she's the highest
paid maid in history.

Hello?

Blackmail? Over an affair?

Neither of them is married,
it's hardly scandalous.

At least not for him.

Perhaps she
discovered something incriminating?

There's nothing incriminating.
It's a wild goose chase.

Unlike being called to the
cemetery to look for vampires.

This expert you met, does he really
believe vampires exist?

- No.
- Doyle, however...

I remain willing to consider all
scientific possibilities.

Yes. Problem is, you think there's
no end to scientific possibilities.

According to Darwin,

species continually adapt to
higher forms in order to survive.

The ultimate form of which
is immortality.

- Nothing lives forever.
- Exactly.

The only path to immortality
is fame.

People will be talking about
me for hundreds of years.

And you... for at least a dozen.

You're trespassing in our home.

No, your home is the basement
of your mother's house,

where you spend 20 hours
a day reading fantasy.

- This is where you act them out.
- We mean you no harm.

I'm Constable Stratton
of Scotland Yard.

We're investigating the murder of
Bram Stoker's maid, Glynnis Conway.

We have a suspect.
A man in his late 20's.

Tall, dark hair, athletically built,
scar below his left eye.

- We know nothing about him.
- Your face says otherwise.

- Where is Mr Stoker now?
- Well protected.Impossible.

Only we know how to protect our own.

If you have any knowledge,
you must come forward.

Our own?

- What's wrong?
- Mr Stoker has left the hotel.

- Where did he go?
- Mr Stoker? Nowhere.

Open the door.

What are you doing?

- You promised me...
- Did you go out tonight?

- Why would I do that?
- I would have seen him leave.

- I've been here all night.
- Maybe he went out the window?

We're on the top floor.

You could have lowered
yourself on a rope

- or climbed down the drain pipe.
- Or perhaps I crawled down the wall?

Now if you'll excuse me,
I'm trying to work.

Come on, Mum.

I'm certain it was him.

He turned toward the street
and then he was gone.

Ma, you look tired.

What's wrong?

I'm so grateful to you
for bringing me here.

But sometimes the hotel
gets so quiet. Empty.

I find myself thinking...

- About what?
- Salt water taffy.

Coney Island.

- The Steeplechase Horse Race.
- Your favourite.

You and Theo would ride all day,
if I let you.

You're homesick.

It's selfish of me to keep you here.

You should go back to New York,
see the family.

No, Harry.

I want to stay here.

Where you are, I am.

- That won't be necessary.
- How did you get in here?

I don't have much time.

The others would be angry if they
knew I was speaking to you.

My name is Liliana.
I know the man you seek.

- The man who killed Mr Stoker's maid?
- A vanator.

A vampire hunter by the name
of Lachlan McBride.

- Where can we find him?
- I don't know.

But it's important the police
find him before the others do.

- I must go now.
- Wait.

Why are you telling me this?

The maid was not part of our world.

McBride brought dishonour
by killing her.

Her death should be dealt with
by your authorities, not ours.

Was Glynnis having any financial
difficulties? No.

She never mentioned
any debts she owed?

Or that she was having difficulty
making ends meet on her salary?

- Nonsense. I paid her well.
- Yeah? How well?

You searched my private records?

How could you allow such an
invasion of my privacy?!

- Dr Doyle has no say in this matter.
- She's blackmailing you, isn't she?

Mr Stoker, your silence only
enhances suspicion.

- Bram?
- Glynnis...

discovered something about me.

Something extremely private.

She threatened to reveal it
publicly.

I paid her to remain silent.

What did she discover?

Will you tell me in private?

I can't.

I'm sorry, Arthur. But it has
nothing to do with this crime.

You have my word as a friend.

So that's it? He says,

"You have my word," and
you're fine with that?

It doesn't matter what the maid
discovered. It's still motive.

I'm saying we need to be pursuing
other leads as well.

One of the vampires from the
cemetery came to see me last night.

The crazy people are actual
vampires now (?)

She gave me the name of a vampire
hunter - Lachlan McBride.

She said he's the one
who threatened Bram.

I'll track down his address.

Are you all right?

Did you get any sleep
at all last night?

Yes.

I had a terrible dream.

I dreamt you left me forever.

What?

- That's crazy.
- Hm-mm.

I've never given dreams much weight,
but this one... It was so real.

You're just spooked.

Ever since the 'Count' moved in
down the hall.

- You need to go home.
- No.

I'll never leave you.

I fear something terrible may happen.

Oh, I'm going with you.

I'll book us two tickets,
Liverpool to New York.

See the family.

Eat as much salt water taffy
as we can stuff in our faces.

- You don't have to do that.
- I know I don't.

I want to.

I'm not leaving you, Ma... ever.

Who's there?

Your best pals
in the whole wide world.

Ready for action. Good girl.

We have the address.

Which was interesting.
That we got it, instead of you.

Why are you here and not
at Scotland Yard?

What's all this?

That photo of Lake Como... had
me thinking.

The anarchist group was involved in
various assassinations around the world.

England, America, Russia,
Spain, Switzerland.

And one in Milan, Italy.

Which occurred during the exact time
of our trip to nearby Lake Como.

He travelled a lot,
usually without me.

Hey. The Adventures of Tom Sawyer.

I love Twain. What?

I like great literature.

- That was my husband's favourite book.
- I'll return it.

I went through his records

and I discovered that on the exact
date of all seven assassinations,

he was within 50 miles
of the event.

Dear God.

Benjamin was trying to expose
this group. I'm sure of it.

I think he may have been
a government agent.

He was in all these places and yet he
couldn't stop any of the assassinations?

- You didn't know him.
- I agree.

Only those we know us best, know
what we're truly capable of.

And only those who know us best,
know the easiest way to deceive us.

My husband would never deceive me.

And Stoker would never
deceive Doyle.

What's the address?

Hello? Mr McBride?

Look at this.

Mr McBride?

He's dead.

Doors and windows were
all locked, you say?

Yes. No sign of forced entry anywhere.

Oh, vampires can shape-shift, right?

So the murderer just... slipped
under the door, did he?

More likely McBride knew the
murderer and let him in.

The only thing we know for certain
is that Bram is no longer a suspect.

He's been locked up and under
guard for two days.

Sir.

- What happened?
- I don't know.

I thought I heard a noise inside,
so I knocked and there's no answer.

I entered to find Mr Stoker gone.

Perhaps he fashioned a way
to climb down the wall.

Why?

We'll ask him when we find him.

I know where to start looking.

Why this street?

My mother thought she saw Stoker
leave the hotel last night.

He denied it, so I let it go.

But she said she saw him
turn down this street.

Does Mr Stoker know anyone near here?

No.

- Not that you know of.
- Yes, I get it.

It's starting to appear
that I may not know Bram

quite as well as I'd assumed.

- And that upsets you?
- Shouldn't it?

Does he know you? Does he
know all your secrets?

No-one knows what goes on
behind closed doors.

- Unless you live with someone.
- Even then.

It's not the doors that keep
secrets from getting out.

Look.

I didn't kill anyone.

I have a condition.

It makes me anaemic.

I've found that drinking
cow's blood provides relief.

Confined to that dreary hotel room,
I'd grown desperate.

But I went only to the butcher shop.

Bram, your teeth...

...they're like fangs. I've never
noticed them before.

I've always had bad teeth.

They've grown worse in recent years.

I hide them, by not smiling or
engaging in conversation.

I have many peculiarities, Arthur.

But being a vampire
is not among them.

Fetch some garlic, or a crucifix
if you wish to test me.

My condition also renders me
sensitive to sunlight,

but as you can see,
I've not turned to dust.

I also cast a shadow,
and a reflection.

I cannot summon an army of rats
or a storm in the sky,

because all those vampire traits
are fiction.

An ill deed it was, to breathe
life into Dracula.

An albatross that hangs
heavily upon my neck.

All this time, the truth has been
staring me in the face.

Tertiary syphilis. The final stage
of the disease.

Symptoms include anaemia, trembling,

sensitivity to sunlight
and erosion of teeth.

Apparently I'm the only one
he wouldn't touch.

How he contracted the disease
is irrelevant.

Those afflicted are
needlessly saddled

with great embarrassment and shame.

Their disfigurement becoming a
hideous Scarlet "A",

alerting the world to
their past sins.

Now we know what his maid was
blackmailing him about.

So, you believe this
"vampire hunter"

- is the man who killed the maid?
- I do.

The vampires then killed
him in revenge.

They're not real vampires,
you understand?

Just a cult of crazy people
waging a kind of Gothic feud.

And you believe this as well?

I'm not as willing to dismiss
Mr Stoker as a suspect.

He still has motives for killing
both his maid and Mr McBride

and no way of proving
his whereabouts.

For years I've tried to protect him,

defending him when others were
quick to marginalise him

from "polite" society.

He has his eccentricities but
I know he's not a murderer.

Stoker's escaped.

I broke out of the same exact cell,
two years ago.

- How did you do it?
- Flawlessly.

The point is, it can be done.

Merring's reprimanding
the guard on duty.

He's been called to task
for falling asleep in the past,

though he swears he didn't this time.

Perhaps someone drugged
the guard or hypnotized him?

We have every available constable
out searching the streets.

I suggest we join 'em.

You don't need to tell us how
you did it, but tell us this.

Is there any way that Bram Stoker
could have done what you did,

- without assistance?
- Uh-uh.

The vampires said, "Only we know
how to protect our own."

We should be searching the cemetery.

You didn't happen
to bring a gun, did you?

No.

- Crucifix?
- Shush.

It's a big cemetery. We should
split up, cover more ground.

- That is a terrible idea.
- All right.

Come on, if we stay together, we'll
be searching this place all night.

I'll err on the side of caution
over expediency, thank you.

All right, fine, if you're afraid,
Adelaide can stay with you.

What I am is not stupid.

If someone did break Mr Stoker out,
and he didn't go willingly,

his life may be in danger
at this very moment.

Fine, we'll split up.

If you find Bram or the vampires,
give a sharp whistle.

I don't know how to whistle.

You're American. I thought that was
the first thing they taught you?

Just put your fingers in your mouth
and blow like this.

No, no, place your fingers like so...

If you find anyone, just shout out.

Help! Help!

Get me out of here! Please!

- Somebody!
- Bram, is that you?

Please! Please!

Arthur. Thank God!

- What happened?
- A woman took me from the jail.

She claimed to be a vampire.

She brought me here,
she sealed the door!

It's no word of a lie, Arthur.
It happened as I say.

- Mr Stoker.
- Where is this woman now?

I don't know. She left me.
She went off into the night.

Were there other people
with her? No.

She spoke of other vampires
but said they'd fled London

when they heard that McBride
had been killed.

They feared they would be
accused of the murder.

If they didn't do it, who did?

Houdini?

Go back inside, stay there.

Professor Havensglin.

- What're you doing here?
- I'm here to kill Mr Stoker.

- You're a vanator?
- I'm a protector of the innocent.

The Strigoi have terrorised this
world for hundreds of years.

What about Mr Stoker's maid?
She was no vampire.

I didn't kill her. Mr McBride did.

He was an overzealous follower

who disgraced himself
by killing that maid.

So you murdered him and
drained his blood

to make it appear the
vampires did it?

He needed to be punished,
as does Bram Stoker.

His book emboldened the Strigoi,
attracting more into the fold,

spreading filth among the virtuous.

So tell me where he is?!

- I will not.
- Quite the contrary.

- You're under arrest -
- Tell me where Mr Stoker is,

or I won't tell you where
Mr Houdini is.

Help!

Hello?!

Somebody help!

HELP!

HELP!

Mr Houdini is buried in
one of these graves.

Even with his skills,
escape is unlikely.

I'll tell you where the grave is,
when you take me to Bram.

Stoker!

Search the graves,
look for fresh soil.

Houdini won't last long!

Come on. Do it again.

Bram?!

Bram, I know you're in here.

Show yourself, or I will cut
Dr Doyle's throat.

- Show yourself, Stoker!
- Don't do it, Bram!

He'll kill me anyway.
Save yourself.

Houdini?!

I'll toss you in the flames.

You can burn with the other paupers.

Dr Doyle?!

I heard him whistle.

I gotta put this in my act.

Where's Mr Stoker?

Dead.

He and Professor Havensglin...
fell into the furnace...

Bram?

As you can see, I'm still
very much alive.

Only Havensglin went in.

I fell to the side,

rendered unconscious behind
one of the crates.

Your fans are crazy.

I just realised something.

Your vampire hunter from Dracula,
Van Helsing,

that name is an anagram
of Havensglin.

I chose it as an homage
to the professor.

It's quite ironic he turned
out to be an actual vanator.

Ah, they're for friends.

Will you inscribe it?

If I must.

You know my secret.

I'm a doctor.

How long...

...before I lose my mind?

My final years, spent in madness?

At least your book will live on.

And through it, so will you.

Let us each embrace the albatross
around our necks.

Well, most people are
fickle and forgetful.

Most.

You needn't escort me
all the way home.

I just want to make sure there are
no anarchists lying in wait.

I found a telegram sent
from my husband

to a Mr Walbridge of
Buffalo, New York,

enquiring about firearms sold at
Mr Walbridge's hardware store.

Firearms? Well, that can't be good.

The gate's ajar.

Just wait a second.

I'm a police officer.

You're also the target.

- Oh, God.
- What?

Benjamin's things.
They've taken them.

All of them.

This was about him.

We're going to Buffalo.

I'm taking my mother back
to New York anyway.

No big deal.

Thank you.

Ma?

Ma?

Ma?

synced and corrected
by peritta